


I Will

by hoetaku97



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, I wrote this in like 3 hours, M/M, Sakusa Kiyoomi-centric, Sleeping Together, atsumu is a sleepy boy, sakusa is Soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26357431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoetaku97/pseuds/hoetaku97
Summary: Atsumu Miya has made a home for himself in the places in Kiyoomi’s life where once existed only empty space.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 269





	I Will

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Mitski.

Hands.

Hands actively reaching, searching.

Hands feeling their way across pure white sheets to meet warm, tender flesh.

Atsumu is still asleep, and Kiyoomi is well aware his movements are unconscious as he seeks Kiyoomi out.

For once, Kiyoomi allows himself to be found, relaxing into his touch.

Kiyoomi is not the type of person who has ever allowed this, allowed himself to be found so easily. But, Atsumu Miya asks for everything he has, and Kiyoomi wouldn’t dare deny him. While Kiyoomi is as private as they come, his heart, as well as his flesh, is weak to Atsumu.

Atsumu Miya gives his all in everything, and demands your all in return. To be loved so completely and freely comes with a price. The price doubles as a challenge: to bask in the warm light of the sun, you must step out of the shadows. Kiyoomi has lived in the safety of the shadows for a long time, hiding the truths of himself behind tricks of light and shadow, casting illusions and making the real indistinguishable from the fake.

Consider Kiyoomi, the magician and the illusionist, always concealing the reality of his thoughts and feelings behind sleight of hand.

Consider Atsumu, who is far more clever and intuitive than Kiyoomi had originally anticipated.

Atsumu, the one who sees through Kiyoomi’s facade, and senses the veiled undercurrent hidden under every half-truth.

When did Kiyoomi become the sort of person who finds himself sought after across the sheets by a man he loves more than himself, enough to fall apart and come together again in his arms all at once?

He doesn’t have the answer.

What he knows is the warmth of Atsumu’s chest against his back, the soft thrum of his heartbeat touching some tender place buried within Kiyoomi’s ribcage, is grounding.

Here in what has been their shared bedroom for 2 months, Atsumu Miya has been slowly drawing more and more emotions from Kiyoomi that he hadn’t even thought himself capable of, not unlike a violinist drawing a bow across the strings, pulling chords from where once existed only stillness.

Kiyoomi is now living in the after, dealing with the mortifying ordeal of being known.

The scariest part is that Atsumu knows him _and still reaches for him anyway._ Somehow, that makes it even worse, Atsumu knowing and acknowledging Kiyoomi’s quirks and sensitivities and still seeking him out. It’s unfamiliar and it’s warm and it’s comforting and it’s unsettling, all at once.

The ache for Atsumu’s touch is also new. He can physically feel the tug on his heart, beggingand daring him to reach an outstretched palm to caress a tanned, freckled cheek. Since when does Kiyoomi offer anyone gentle caresses?

Questions only give way to more questions, so it’s best not to dwell on it.

When Atsumu had stumbled his way through a clumsy confession, cheeks flushed and mumbling in a way so uncharacteristic of him yet so endearing, Kiyoomi had no idea how drastically his life would change. All Kiyoomi knew then was that he wanted. He wanted to go as far as Atsumu was willing to take him, to be held in the gravity of this rude and childish sun that loves so selflessly and completely, for as long as he is allowed.

They exist in a sort of dance now; Atsumu leading, while Kiyoomi is still learning the steps. He occasionally trips over his feet, and even more often steps on Atsumu’s, but he finds that he must follow. Kiyoomi has no say anymore; he can’t imagine not seeing this through to the end.

Atsumu Miya has made a home for himself in the places in Kiyoomi’s life where once existed only empty space. He fills Kiyoomi’s kitchen, _their kitchen_ , with dancing and music every morning before Kiyoomi is even fully awake. He fills the space in their shared closet with baggy sweatshirts and his absurdly large collection of sneakers. He fills the other side of this bed, snoring lightly, blonde hair splayed out across the pillow. He fills Kiyoomi’s mind, occupying every space volleyball and his distaste for germs left vacant.

Atsumu Miya demands everything, and Kiyoomi offers it freely. He has no other choice.

In the space between them in this bed exists an understanding: I will always meet you where you are.

To love someone requires growth. One cannot be without the other.

Atsumu and Kiyoomi, so in love it’s sappy and cheesy and disgusting, are still growing. They adjust to accommodate each other, compensating for each other’s missteps in their shared dance. Even if they make mistakes, their shared effort is ever present, that same effort they pour into their shared passion that has become their career and shared thread.

Vulnerability is scary. Emotional intimacy is scary. Having someone know what your morning breath smells like and observe you through every part of your 10 step skincare routine and lay against you on the couch for hours while you watch the same outdated gameshow you have a secret affinity for is scary. But Atsumu Miya is worth it all. To be loved by Atsumu so deeply makes every growing pain and moment of self doubt worth it.

Kiyoomi rolls onto his other side to look at Atsumu’s sleeping figure. He eyes the long dark lashes shadowing his cheeks, and the tiny bit of drool pooling at the corner of his mouth. Being known is scary, but the knowing makes it all worth it. Knowing Atsumu as no one else could, knowing the way his socks never match and he always burns his eggs in the morning because he’s easily distracted and the way Bambi makes him cry every time without fail, makes every step forward Kiyoomi takes worth it.

Kiyoomi takes in the image of Atsumu, who is now mumbling something under his breath, still in a deep sleep.

He pulls Atsumu into his chest, buries his face in wavy blonde locks, and drifts back off into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
